


Gold in the ice

by Captaineski



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Curses, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, M/M, no one asked for this, this gonna get a bit dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captaineski/pseuds/Captaineski
Summary: In light of Bilbo's betrayal for giving away the Arkenstone to his enemies, Thorin, the midst of his gold sickness decides to enact a punishment that lasts for fifty years.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Kíli
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guess who decided to come back after years of observing but not posting? This train wreck!

Bilbo Baggins would like to say he has lived life very well. 

When he went on this adventure he wanted to look back on his years when his hair was grey, and his face was covered in wrinkles, he wanted to tell his children and grandchildren, that he lived a life without an ounce of regret. 

Even when he faced the shrouded figure of death if it came for him now or even hundred years down the line, he wanted to look death in their cold eyes and be unafraid, purely because he accomplished every desire he could have thirsted for, strived for every quest that fell through his front door. 

He wanted to go past the borders of the shire like no Hobbit has ever had before. 

Months ago, while he was snuggled and warm in his hole. He imagined that thoughts of death would not fully enter his mind until he had greyed, yet here he is. Only a few months older, and already feeling as if a shrouded figure loomed over him from behind as he watched the elven king Thranduil and his human companion, Bard approach what was once the bridge leading to the front gates of Erebor. 

Bilbo has never felt as nervous as he did, watching the pair, one on elk back while the other was on a horse, approach the bricked up gate. 

Funny, in the stories Thorin told him he always described it to be so welcoming and open to the people. 

An arrow flew and landed a few inches from the animal’s feet, Bilbo felt his world begin to tilt slightly as he studied the careful expression of Thranduil and Bard, would that they take to mean an act of war? Would they tear down the bricks one by one just to get to Thorin for providing such an insult? 

He could hear the soft drumming of Thorin’s voice but for the life of him, he couldn’t quite grasp the words just yet. 

However, he did catch on to Thranduil’s smug tone as he spoke. “We have come to tell you, payment for your debt has been offered and accepted.” 

Bilbo did his best to match the other’s confused expressions, the guilt that was slowly eating away at him, flaring the moment Thranduil pulled out the Arkenstone from his satchel, raising it high so it’s brilliance can shine for all to see. 

There was a wave of calmness at first as everyone basked in the warm glow of the stone, before the revelation finally hit them, leading for the calm to make way for outrage. There was a chorus, louder than anything he had ever heard. 

“Thieves!” It sang louder and louder. “They invaded our mountain, our sacred home. Liars, thieves!”

“It’s a trick!” Thorin’s voice called out about all the rest. “A ruse, the Arkenstone is in this mountain, I will not be played for a fool!” 

He couldn’t breathe, the chainmail was becoming a noose around his neck as he opened his mouth. “It is not a ruse Thorin! I gave it to them!” 

His company, his beloved friends turned to him slowly, some gazed at him with bewilderment while others, Bofur in particular, seemed slightly impressed. Thorin, however, seemed as if he wanted to behead him right then and there. 

“I took it as my fourteenth share.” He continued, doing his best to keep the tremor from his voice. “I am willing to let it stand against my claim.” 

“Your claim…” Thorin let that word hang in the air as he stared Bilbo down. “You have no claim over me, you miserable little-” 

The sentence was cut short as Thorin stepped quickly towards him. He held up his hands in surrender, an unfamiliar fear curling his spine as the king neared him. “Thorin, Thorin, wait I was going to give it to you but-” 

“Silence traitor!” Thorin grabbed hold of his collar, shaking him once as Bilbo turned his head in fear, whether it was fear of looking into those hate-filled eyes or fear that he would not live to see his hair turn grey as he hoped, either was a good reason enough to have his gaze upon the stone walls in fear. 

“We welcome you among our kin, and this is how you repay my kindness?” Thorin shook him once again. “By thievery?” 

“Thorin please, I’m trying to help you.” Bilbo pleaded. “You’ve changed, the dwarf I met in bag-end would not have gone back on his word, would never have second-guessed the loyalty of his kin!” 

There was a pause in Thorin, he could see a flicker of something in his eyes that gave him a spark of hope. The flicker went away just as quickly as it went, and with it, any hope that he would make it out of Erebor alive. 

“You dare mention loyalty to me?” Thorin uttered in disgust, his hold on the front of Bilbo’s shirt tightening as he began to drag him away from the others. He placed his smaller hands around the strong trunk-like wrist on his shirt, but it was impossible to pry off. 

Bilbo could hear the alarmed voices of the others, and as he turned his gaze frantically towards the two armies beyond the gate, he could even see a smolder of concern on Thranduil’s face while Bard’s was much more blatant. 

“Thorin, please-” 

“I should have you thrown from the Ramparts.” Bilbo was kicking his feet now, feeling desperate by the second as he gazed at the others. 

Kili took a step, a single step, but was drawn back by Dwalin who grabbed the back of his chainmail, dragging him back in line with the others. 

Bilbo wondered what they thought of him as he was dragged away into the darkness, he hoped they would mourn for him. 

He supposed that was all he could hope for now, to be mourned.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a battle begins to rage on, Kili finds that his thoughts lie elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Two chapters in a short span of time? What is this witchcraft?

The eagles were here, he could hear their screeches tickle his eardrums as he gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, bringing the blade down on an Orc that charged at him with murderous glee in its eye that quickly faded away as it crumbled at his feet. 

How many did that make now? Eighteen? Twenty? 

The count became lost to him after the blond elf emerged from the shadows to slay Bolg. His younger self would have played off the feat, or better yet he would have pretended it had never happened. 

Yet this time felt different than any other time his life was saved by another. Kili knew that if the elf had not arrived in time if he was still bent backward with his sword only feet away, unable to move or even turn away, he knew he would have died. 

He knew the cold steel of the Orc’s lance would have pierced him clean through, yet it was funny that when he was so close to death’s door, all he could think about was Bilbo. 

Was he safe? His uncle was furious but surely he would have hidden him away somewhere safe before passing judgment onto him. He needed to see him with his own two eyes, needed to run his fingers through his mop of wheat-colored hair, and see for himself that he was still breathing. 

An Orc’s warcry pulled him from his thoughts as he cut it short with a swift slash to the creature’s throat before he turned, a loud clanging filling the air as dwarven-steel collided with orc-metal. 

Now was not the time for love, now he just needed to live to see Bilbo’s face. 

~

There was always calm at the end of a battle, like the eye of a storm once it’s finished tearing down trees and sweeping them into its howling winds. There is no noise, no cheering or cries of sadness from the dead, no squealing from the retreating Orcs, or the sound of blades being placed back into their sheaths. 

The stillness was hypnotic in a way no elf, or dwarf, or man, or even wizard will ever be able to describe. It was a silence that of acceptance for the horrors that occurred and the gift of being blessed to live another day. 

So it was fitting that the people of man were the ones to break it. Their lives were more fleeting than dwarves or elves, they were like a candle wick that was set by an open window, easily able to be blown out at any second. 

Their cheers of victory were louder than anything he had ever heard. Kili watched them, some lifted their weapons high while others simply held back their heads and screamed cries of a battle won. 

With the humans followed the rattle of dwarves, never willing to be outshined. His people pounded their fists against their chest plates, letting out short guttural sounds that reassembled that of an animal to anyone unfamiliar with them. 

The elves, however, were too refined for such displays as they simply sheathed their weapons one by one. He had to give them one thing, it was always interesting to seem them work in such unison. 

Kili sheathed his sword with shaky hands as he watched the crowd around him, he looked for his clan, and in the distance, he could see Dwalin. He struggled through the sea of people to reach him, even as his body began to ache he did not stop until he could clearly hear the sound of his loud laugher above all else. 

“Dwalin!” He shouted as loud as his horse voice would allow him. “Mr. Dwalin!” 

Dwalin clapped a hand on his sore shoulder and it took everything within Kili not to flinch away. “Kili, there you are, see!? I told ya he wouldn’t let himself get picked off.” 

Kili lifted his gaze to see who he was addressing, but Bofur was already enclosing his arms around him and pulling him into a hug, lifting him off the ground for a second before shaking him a bit. 

Behind him, he could see Balin covered in a mixture of his own sweat and Orc blood, Gloin still gripped onto his ax as it dripped with black essence, he could see the back of Bifur’s wild hair in the distance as he assisted Oin with checking on the wounded, but it was sound of Bombur’s stomach growling that made him relax completely as he was set back down onto his unsteady feet. 

They were all accounted for. 

“Fili said he watched ya chase after that orc pack and they got worried, but I told em you had nothing to worry about,” Bofur said, gaining the company’s skeptic glances in response. 

“Where is my uncle?” Kili asked, surely he must have come out by now, he wouldn’t have doubted that he was the one to bring an end to the pale orc, he just wished he could have seen the fight, he knew it was a glorious victory for his kin. 

Dwalin and Bain exchanged glances, an expression of disgust mixed with shame covered Gloin’s face, and the grumbling of Bombur’s stomach was silenced. Kili gazed upon their faces before he turned to his brother, Fili had yet to say a single word but even he couldn’t hide his true emotion from his face. 

“Where is he?” Kili asked once again. “I know he was angry when we left but he joined us didn’t he?” 

“Kili…” His brother’s words trailed off as he placed a hand on his arm, gentle and comforting. “Uncle never followed us out of the castle.” 

Kili blinked his eyes rapidly, as he shook his head. “No, no, he had to, you just didn’t see him, he must be lost in the crowd.” He turned his head in various directions, hoping to catch any glimpse of Thorin’s profile. 

“Uncle!” 

“Kili, I know it’s hard but-” 

“Uncle Thorin!” His sword fell to the ground as he cupped his mouth with both hands, praying for it to echo further within the crowd. “Uncle Thorin!” 

“Kili!” Fili grasped onto his chin, forcing his little brother to look him in the eye. “He didn’t leave the castle, he watched us leave and he did not follow.” 

Like the calm after a battle, Kili was silent. Almost eerily so as he allowed himself to process and think. Thorin had never left, he had watched his kin leave for battle and he didn’t join them to fight by their side. 

What kind of dwarf does that? What kind of man does that?

Then there was the next question. If his uncle did not leave the castle to join them for battle, then what had he been doing for this entire time? 

Bilbo. Kili picked up his sword, he began to push aside the people of varying races as he hurried to the castle, the others trailing closely behind. 

“Kili! We know you’re upset, just give us the sword and we can have a civil conversation with him.” Dain said as he struggled to keep up with him. 

“Don’t kill him, brother, mother will cross with you.” Fili snorted. 

Kili didn’t stop, even as he was being shoved and pushed aside, he needed to find his uncle, he needed to find Bilbo.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Gandalf were here he knew he would be chided for following a plan that he knew would fail. So he forced himself to sit and listen, to let the world go on around him until either the desperate voices of man and dwarf were snuffed out, or the snorting of orcs were silenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one!

Sulfer had a very distinct smell, you can’t quite escape it, it always follows like a ghost, tickling your nostrils and bringing tears to your eyes the more you breathed it in. The smell of harsh chemicals, along with the ancient scent of dragon was still wafting through the walls of the castle. 

If Bilbo knew being locked in a chamber would smell this awful he would have volunteered to be thrown over the ramparts. At least then he would know more about the sounds of battle coming from the tiny window overhead. 

He already attempted to climb the walls and peek but it was far too smooth, he wouldn’t even know what to do once he reached it. It too small for him to squeeze through, and he doubted his shouts would be paid attention to. 

Bilbo hugged his legs close to his chest, his back pressed against a corner as he listened. He could hear the desperate shouts of humans, as well as the grunts of dwarves. The elves were silent, he only knew they existed by the familiar sounds of their blades classing against twisted metal. 

Among those sounds, he could also hear a loud snorting, at first there was one but it was quickly joined by others. Orcs. 

So that was the cause of excitement. 

Bilbo wanted to try yanking the handle of the locked door again, or make another attempt to climb the smooth walls only to make it six inches off the ground before sliding down onto the cold hard floor. 

If Gandalf were here he knew he would be chided for following a plan that he knew would fail. So he forced himself to sit and listen, to let the world go on around him until either the desperate voices of man and dwarf were snuffed out, or the snorting of orcs were silenced. 

“Ungrateful, traitors-” 

Bilbo lifted his head as he heard the sound of pacing in front other the locked door before there was a jingling of keys. Thorin looked...well there was no other way to describe it other than wild, mad beyond words, muttering to himself in dwarvish but Bilbo could only pick up a word or two when he slipped into the common tongue. 

“Selfish” and “ungrateful” were used, Bilbo scrambled to his feet as he began to realize that they were being used in a plural sense. “Thorin, Thorin what is happening?” 

“How dare they leave their king,” Thorin growled, “unprotected, the treasure must be fortified-” 

“Thorin!” Before leaving Bag-End, Bilbo had never even considered raising his voice a few octaves than usual, yet here he was, yelling at a king twice in the same day. “What is happening? What are you talking about? Where are the others?” 

“Gone!” He exclaimed. “They left their king!”

Bilbo tried to make sense of what he was saying. The company left Thorin? They must have left to aid in the fight against the orcs, but if so why was Thorin still in here with him? 

“You.” An accusing finger pointed in Bilbo’s direction, the madness returned in Thorin’s eyes and shined brighter than any treasure in the floors below. As he took a step forward, Bilbo wished he could take a step back. 

“Thorin?” He sounded so weak and pathetic, Gandalf would be ashamed, he could practically hear his mother rolling in her grave. “What are you doing?” 

Thorin was babbling now as he drew closer, the words growing more nonsensical. He couldn’t move, why couldn’t he move? His chest was beginning to grow tight, he could barely draw in a breath. 

As he watched Thorin take another step he realized the words weren’t nonsensical, he just couldn’t understand dwarvish. He pried his mouth open but it hurt to speak. “Thorin, what are you doing?” 

“You will be an example, they will never leave their king ever again!” Thorin’s smile curled into an insane smile. 

The edges of Bilbo’s vision began to darken, he wished he could cry but it as if his tear ducts had been sucked dry of moisture, he had never felt fear such as this, even when he was being chased by the creature in the goblin mine’s he never felt something so finite. 

It was cold now, so very cold. Before his vision darkened completely a face flashed before his vision. 

Kili. 

~

It didn’t take long to find his uncle, he was in the floors down below, counting his coins. Then again if he weren’t then all Kili would have to do was follow the sweet siren songs of betrayal. He wasn’t sure which infuriated him more, the fact that his uncle seemed entirely unconcerned didn’t help his mood in the slightest. 

“Uncle.” He said evenly, approaching with speed as Thorin barely spared him a fraction of his attention. 

“Kili, you’ve finally returned to your senses, have you retrieved the Arkenstone from-”

Kili planned on talking to him, he planned on following the other’s idea of sitting down and having a civilized conversation, express his concerns to the king, ask for Bilbo’s location as politely as possible. 

Well, he did, until he punched him. 

He swore on his mother’s runestone that he didn’t mean to, but when his fist connected with Thorin’s cheek and he watched him crumble into a pile of gold. Satisfaction was not the word he would use to describe it but it was pretty damn close.

He wanted to chase after him, punch him again and again until his face was a beaten pulp but Dwalin, unfortunately, got to him first. He grabbed his arm just as he raised his fist, yanking him back until he was a few inches in front of him, holding steady as he squirmed against him. 

Thorin held his wounded cheek as he gazed at him in outrage. “How dare you!” 

“Kili what the hell is wrong with you!?”

“If we can all calm down we can-”

“Where’s Bilbo!?” Kili exclaimed over the voices of the others. “Where is he?” 

Thorin narrowed his eyes in disgust. “This fuss is over some hobbit?” 

“His name is Bilbo.” Kili retorted. “You didn’t come with us to fight the orcs with our kin uncle, which can lead to only one conclusion, now tell me what you did to him.”

Thorin moved his hand, the pain fading from his cheek as he straightened himself. “How dare you accuse me of anything, as if you are a king of this mountain and not some lowly dwarf from under it.” 

Kili sucked in a breath, mother would be cross if he tried to punch him again. “So then you weren’t with Bilbo while we were away?” 

“Where I was, is none of your business, boy.” 

“Thorin please,” Balin spoke gently. “Tell us where you have hidden Bilbo, it has been hours, he must be anxious about his punishment.” 

Thorin let out a soft snort, his gaze wandering back to his assortments of gold. “You need not worry about that thief any longer, his punishment has been decided and dealt with.” 

Kili frowned. “You’ve delivered his punishment already? What did you do, curse him to count all of your treasures?” 

“That would be a blessing,” Thorn said loudly. “Not a punishment, I would not allow him to steal from me yet again, his punishment was far more severe.” 

Kili stared into Thorin’s eyes, trying to see through the sickness to the kind-hearted man underneath. “What have you done Thorin?” 

Thorin straightened. “What could be done to any of you if you do not get back in line.” 

Kili lunged for him, Dwalin yanked his arm back nearly popping his shoulder out of its socket, he wrapped an arm around his middle and lifted him off the ground, carrying him out of the chambers no matter how hard he struggled. 

“Where is he!? Tell me Thorin, tell me where Bilbo is, where is he!?”

Thorin’s face turned smug as he was dragged away, Kili would have done anything to cut that smirk away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been able to update until now, but here ya go!

It was damp. In a way, it was almost funny that his first thought when he came to awareness was in regards to the humidity rather than his own wellbeing.

He couldn’t quite collect his thoughts at first, it was as if his senses were clawing forward, clouding whatever sound thought he was trying to form in his mind. He could breathe in the smell of musk and dust, he could hear a slight breeze to the right of him, it was faint, most likely coming from a crack in a wall.

His sight was blurred but once it cleared the first thing he could see was a brick wall, with the slight hint of cobwebs. Oh yes, such a welcoming sight indeed, at least the spiders down here were least likely to eat him, at least that was his hope.

The subtle breeze that could be heard, the smell of dust, and the sight of the brick wall all helped him in regaining his mind as he continued to stare and recognize the environments around him, however, he began to regret this when he heard a sound that began to prickle his annoyance.

_Drip, Drip, Drip._

Oh great, it’s not enough that Thorin decided to throw him into a rusty dungeon, he decided to throw him into a leaking one. It was as if he knew the best ways to torture him without inflicting physical pain.

_Drip, Drip, Drip._

It was coming from above, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was landing, he tried to take his mind off the noise and focus.

What was he doing before Thorin threw him in here? He was in a different cell, it was by a small barred window that brought in the noise from the conflict outside, he remembered hearing the sounds of battle, worrying about Kili and hoping he wouldn’t get hurt, he remembered Thorin’s fury as he stormed into his cell, screaming about “traitors” that he couldn’t recognize.

There was something else, something he couldn’t quite recall after Thorin grabbed him in his anger.

_Drip, Drip, Drip._

That accursed sound, he needed to be rid of it. Bilbo focused his energy on rising to his feet so he could at least walk away from the sound so he could think. He focused with all his might, but his body would not move.

Bilbo felt the sharp pang of panic but he shoved it down, perhaps he was still disoriented. He did feel slightly groggy from being shaken by Thorin, he just needed another moment to collect himself.

He gave himself said moment, allowing himself to collect his thoughts before trying to move again. This time deciding to start small, he would lift his arm and his arm alone to reassure himself he was fine.

Like before he focused on the movement, wanting to lift his arm in the air for only a second. He envisioned it, wished for it, and still, his arm did not move from its place by his side.

_Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip_

A finger this time then, only a finger that was simple enough, he would call for it to twitch and nothing more. He strained as he tried with every ounce of his being to make it twitch but it wouldn’t so much as quiver.

What was happening? A moment ago he could move and even twitch his ears whenever he wished for it, but now he couldn’t even make his fingers twitch.

He could blink his eyes and...his eyes. How long have they been held open? Usually, his eyes would ache from behind held open so long but now...it was as if he could barely feel them at all.

_Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip, Drip._

Kili, where was Kili? He would help him, he would save him from this stilled form of his, he would rescue him any moment now, and they could solve this together like always, he would learn from Thorin of his location and he would strike down the bars that held him there.

_Drip._

How long has it been now?

Kili was fighting outside, he could remember that now. He could hear those cries of battle in between the snorts of orcs, he could hear him shouting for his kins aid as he slew whatever creatures that tried to destroy them.

That was the beautiful thing about dwarves, about Kili, if you were in trouble and he considered you family he would stop at nothing to ensure that the threat was vanquished. It was one of the things he loved about him, and he was able to ponder those things now.

How he loved Kili’s smile when he successfully pulls a trick on someone that gives them a short frighten, the way Kili always seemed to be by his side whenever he doubted he would make it out of a situation alive, his dedication to his mother by carrying the runestone she gave to him before he left for his journey.

So many little things he could remember clearly now, the way his ears twitched when he was embarrassed, how his eyes seemed to have a sense of longing whenever Thorin would tell him stories of the old times of Erebor, the smell of troll on his coat when he lent it to him to wear.

He never realized how much those little things just seemed so endearing now, but he would tell Kili once he was rescued, he would express a way to place his feelings in words that Kili would understand.

He knew the battle that raged outside would not be Kili’s last, the man was an Oakenshield after all, separating Kili from a physical conflict was like separating a fish from water, but maybe he didn’t have to do them alone, and possibly they didn’t have to do them in one place, perhaps they could travel for a while.

There was so much of the world they have yet to see, Erebor did not have to be their only home, the same could be said for the Shire.

Maybe he could bring this up to Kili once he was rescued, maybe the idea will please him.

_Drip._

He couldn’t hear footsteps or voices, he could barely pick up the sound of the scurrying of spiders, or the soft breeze whistling through the crack.

Kili wasn’t here, he wasn’t on his way, he wished he had a window so he could at least hear if the battle ended. It’s been so long, it had to be over by now, he should be hearing the chorus of the dwarves sounds of victory and clanging of mugs crashing together as they drank in celebration but he couldn’t hear anything from above.

Unless they were no sounds of victory unless they were performing sounds of mourning.

No. No, he will not think it, but it constantly nagged.

What if the reason Kili could not find him was that he already passed?

Bilbo felt the spark of tears that could not well in his eyes and wished he could lift his hands to claw open his mouth, he wanted to scream, it was trapped in his mouth but he could not open his mouth to let it out.

_Drip._

Kili would not be coming.

_Drip._

Kili was dead.

_Drip._

He prayed that he would follow him quickly into the thereafter.

_Drip._


End file.
